


Our Stars Were Criminals Too

by softlisboa



Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Brotherly Love, F/M, Family Dynamics, Fluff and Angst, Hospitals, M/M, No Smut, Original Character(s), Please Don't Hate Me, Pre-Canon, Sorry Not Sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:02:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28791402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softlisboa/pseuds/softlisboa
Summary: While discussing important things about their family, Raquel asks Sergio to tell her about his past.The story dates back to the childhood of Sergio and Andrés. Follows up events from the very beginning to the assault on the Royal Mint of Spain.Jesús and Aitor- two men connected by their love for Sorne and the series of obstacles that forced their kids to reframe the world.
Relationships: Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa & Palermo | Martín Berrote, Raquel Murillo/Professor | Sergio Marquina
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8





	1. When unexpected happens

**Author's Note:**

> Hey it's a story made up by me to present the past of the professor and berlin, hope you will enjoy it♡

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prologue to the big story :)

**Palawan, 2019**

  
Still unable to comprehend the news from the morning, Raquel and Sergio couldn't stop the overjoyed grins from painting on their faces.

They spent all day being more affectionate than usual, although it was indeed hard to achieve. They shot each other the _"I'm so in love with you"_ look here and there, not missing a single chance to hug or snog. Acting like two teenagers who became infatuated for the first time, their surroundings adopted the very rosy color. Feeling as if in their own bubble, cut out of the whole world, the two lovers only had eyes for one another, basking in happiness and satisfaction of making their most important dream come true. The couple's behavior didn't go unnoticed either by Mariví or Paula, but the recently adapted habit of seeing these two enamored made them let go of any suspicions. The couple tried to avoid explaining themselves or behaving suspiciously in order not to spoil the surprise to the family, for now of four, but yet to be bigger soon.

Not long after ten pm Mariví excused herself to her bedroom and soon also Paula was tucked in, sleeping soundly. Raquel and Sergio did not postpone the discussion any more. Now with one could say an empty house they could comfortably talk about the upcoming changes without stopping themselves from expressing emotions. 

Having long night talks on the couch had in some way become a ritual of theirs. Facing each other with their fingers interlaced lying on the top of the couch, holding a glass of red wine in the free hand they created an atmosphere of a bubble, shielding them from acute colder breeze coming from the ajar window causing the silk translucent curtains sway gently in time to the blasts. 

This time, due to some special circumstances they switched the rich alcoholic beverage to something softer, a lemonade Paula and Mariví made in the morning, however they stuck to the tradition and poured it to the glasses meant for wine. 

Peaceful nature of the late evening contrasted sharply with what was going inside of their heads. Holding Raquel's hand in his own, Sergio lead them to their soft light-gray pillows on the wooden construction that served them as a couch. Same as always they joined their hands, but leaving the drinks on the coffee table nearby. Looking deeply into each other's eyes they tried to absorb their unity in a moment of this high importance. Eventually the atmosphere let up in favor of the lovers' loud giggles they failed to keep to themselves. Followed by a tight hug laughter suppressed giving its way to the bided conversation.

"Can you believe it Sergio?" Raquel's voice was still rident.

"We did it, Raquel. We _actually_ did it." His voice neither could stay still. He brought his palms up to cup her face and pulled her to a short, but passionate kiss.

"Fuck, we're going to have a baby!" She exclaimed as she lowered her head to rest in the hollow of his shoulder.

"Incredible, isn't it?" He tapped his lap with his hands encouraging her to come closer to him, which she did.

Having him caressing her lower abdomen with the tips of his fingers in a feather light touch, sitting on his lap, tracing his jawline gently with her fingers Raquel felt safe, wishing she could stay like this forever, loved, in his arms. Out of the blue a question popped up in her mind.

"What name will we give it?" Sergio shot her a surprised glance.

"We have just found out, don't you want to decide on than we find out the gender?"

"Oh come on Sergio, let's play a little! You go first, for your daughter perhaps, how would you name a girl? Raquel insisted, playfully punching his chest to push him away.

" _Vale._ " he began playing with her fingers, using his digits to tickle her palm. "If we had a girl, I would like to name her Sorne." He smiled with a trace of melancholy as he run this idea by his _mujer._

"A Basque name? Is there something I don't know about you?" Raquel eyed him suspiciously hearing a name from her origins.

"Well, I chose it, because it was the name of my mother, but yes, I also happen to be Basque." He answered matter-of-factly leaving Raquel shocked.

"Being Basque makes you ten times hotter Sergio and I thought it is impossible!" She stated making both of them laugh. After a while she added with curiosity in her voice:

"Tell me about your mother Sergio, your family, your life. Tell me your story."

Sergio sighed, knowing it was coming from the moment he mentioned the name, only this time he was ready to open up. After all Raquel, his wife, now carrying their child, deserved to know the truth more than anyone else. Hence he gave up on excuses, instead he tightened his grip on her hand and responded silvery:

"Prepare yourself for a hell of a story my love."

**◇**

**Basauri, 1970**

  
Sorne Gonzalvez was not a type to act hastily. She had always been the good student, the child parents dreamed of having. This little dirty blond girl with Portuguese roots, living a quiet life in the north-west part of the Basque Country used to be perceived as a true gem by neighbors and teachers. Used to be, until she met Aitor de Fonollosa, a Basque activist, who had turned her life upside down. Now, with her boyfriend of two years and three public properties damaged, sitting on a windowsill while occasionally blowing strands of hair off her face, she thought she could not be any happier.

It had changed the very day she had started suspecting that she was no longer alone in her own body. Gently grazing her lower stomach with the tips of her fingers, she started considering not only the way she would let her boyfriend know about it, but the possible baby names and features too. Of course she had kept in mind that she might as well be delusional, she had been there a few times before, yet now it somehow had felt more real than ever. It is that a mother always knows, does she not? 

Sorne could not wait to share the news with Aitor, she knew the both desperately wanted to have a child despite their young age. Having a meeting with him set a few days ago, she jumped off the windowsill. Right before she was to grab a blanket from the wardrobe she used to store everything but clothes that had always remained scattered all over the floor, something shifted in her. There, standing by the window, letting the rays of sun permeate into the room and give it a pleasant golden shade. There, in the room she had spent all her childhood, a wave of nostalgia rushed through her, as she reminded herself of all the happy moments spent in that room with her mother that now she would be privileged to experience with a child of her own. The mere feeling of it made her heart fill with warmth. 

Snapping out of the perfect world of memories with a shake of the head and a few fast blinks of the eyes, she paced towards the drawer where she kept the blanket. Stumbling a few times on the way because of her eyes glued to her still flat belly, she finally pulled the plaid out accidentally letting the love letters from her boyfriend, kept as a secret between the folds of the material, fall on the floor. Picking them up she wanted to read them all again and drift off to the moments described on those lavender scented pieces of notebook. _"Enough!"_ she thought, now it was time to make new memories to be written by the love of her life. Sorne shot a quick look at her bedroom once again and started towards the front door, towards _him._

The first thing she noticed after reaching the park, where they were about to meet, was the unusual silence occasionally interrupted by chirping birds. Green soft grass was now kissed by a setting sun, painting on a deep golden color here and there lightly brushed with a brown shade. She continued walking through this small kingdom of pure nature, listening to all the animals making the softest of noises. Then finally she spotted him. Under the tree they shared their first kiss two years ago, stood Aitor, waiting for _her_ to make another day worth living. 

He wanted to keep a tight rein on himself and stay there until she reached him, but he couldn't. Quietly cursing under his nose he ran to his lover and gripped her face as he sealed their lips in a kiss. Returning the kiss she wrapped her arms around his neck to stroke the little hairs there, receiving a hum in return. They stood like this, feeling as if the time had stopped in their favor, doing everything to prolong a this magical moment. Having to catch a breath he tried to pull away slowly, but feeling his girlfriend suck his lower lip, eager not to break the kiss so soon, he gave up and resumed what their were doing, " _To hell with oxygen! It''s her!_ " he though while absentmindedly praying for a second to inhale. Eventually Sorne's body violently reminded her that a human indeed needs air, making her choke lightly from the lack of it. Composing herself took her about thirty seconds. 

"Shall we?" She pointed to ground, clearing her throat a few times, signalizing her readiness to speak.

Having Aitor help her with a blanket things went rapidly, only smoothing the material with removing the cones and some bigger seeds that got covered by it and they were ready to take care of themselves.

As they lay on the firm and slightly damp ground, surrounded by a still silence, Sorne's mind travelled to all the realms she has ever visited in the arms of Morpheus. Yet despite the numerous of them the answer to her biggest concern was nowhere to be found from the world of fairies living in colorful tulips to exploring new galaxies with Martians. Desperate for a solution she searched in her favourite place, the one closest to her. In _his_ eyes, where she swore she could get lost in after mere second. And there it was, her answer clear as the summer sky. The influence her boyfriend had on her could be best seen in this particular moment, when she ditched the idea of beating around the bush and decided to fire straight away:

"I think I'm pregnant."

He inhaled sharply, not long before his breathing hitched hearing the words he has always wanted to hear from her. Aitor opened his mouth several times wanting to say something, but words did not seem to be coming around any time soon. His head was spinning, he didn't know how to respond to this using only the sentences already existing. He froze. The world froze. Bringing his hands to cover his mouth he felt tears pooling in his eyes.

"Aitor?" 

She couldn't comprehend what she has just witnessed. As if his spirit left his body the moment she said those magical words. Sorne did not know what was happening, she only turned to face him and once again find her answer in his beautiful eyes. She re-asked her question:

"Aitor?"

Remaining totally speechless, he rose up from his place to cover her body with his as he cupped her face and kissed her, hard, hoping to give her the answer she desperately sought. Returning the kiss equally hardly she finally knew what he felt, her sweet Aitor, their sweet future.

"I love you." He muttered through tears, breaking the contact just for this second and quickly sealing their lips one more time.

Nothing else mattered, only _them_.

As the kiss grew more heated, he ascended to her neck where he nibbled at her soft skin. Inhaling her unique scent through her cleavage he lifted her shirt up and came to a stop at her now bare stomach, where their personified love rested. There, leaving butterfly kisses all over her still flat belly, he swore he could stay there forever. It appeared true also for her, who was receiving all the love she has ever dreamed of. 

The reality slowly started reminding them of its presence. The birds have stopped chirping, the sun has fully set, taking away all the nice warmth with it behind the horizon. 

For a ticklish person Sorne's attempt to bear her boyfriend's affection was more than remarkable. As much as proud she was of herself she also had her limits that shortly thereafter reared their ugly heads making her squirm under his touch and urged her to set free. It took her few begging cries and firmly pulling his hair, but she won in this nonexistent battle. Fixing her shirt she sat up and drew Aitor next to her. 

"So? You're happy I see." She giggled shooting him a playful look.

"Happy? My love, we our biggest dream has just come true, how could I not be? " He exclaimed a little too loud and took her hands in his. "Still, there is another thing I'd like to ask you." He let go of her hands to tuck a rebel strand of her behind her ear. Gripping her palms tighter now he looked deep into her eyes, trying to gather strength from her honey orbs. 

"I'm all ears." She responded with curiosity.

"Sorne, I know this is not the way we wanted to do this and I am aware that you don't care about the opinion others have about you, but I do. I don't want the love of my life being called names while she is making her dream come true. So please, forget today for a moment and let's just pretend I'm just a man madly in love with his girlfriend and..." She knew where he was going, she didn't let him finish:

"Aitor, please don't ask me to marry you now just because I'm pregnant. I have never and never will care about what they call me. I may be a knocked up uneducated slut, but the happiest knocked up uneducated slut profoundly in love with her boyfriend." 

"I know, I just..." She did not let him finish again, it seems like her the biggest pregnancy craving was the one to tease and interrupt him. Her coquettish voice echoed anew:

"But, if marrying me is going to make you the happiest boyfriend of the happiest knocked up uneducated slut, who am I to stop you?" She shrugged her shoulders in a gesture of defeat and blew him a kiss, leaving him shocked, yet completely in awe of her.

"Are you sure? We don't have to." He stuttered, confusedly trying to comprehend Sorne's words.

"Yes, let's do this. Come on!" She stated with this sweet smile of hers and lowered her tone, then whispered lovingly, caressing his jawline: "Ask me."

"With pleasure." He reached out his hand to hers, bringing both of them up.

Although the moment lost its initial mysteriousness, it kept the spirit within, making it absolutely magical. The surroundings seemed to have disappeared wholly, leaving only the silence of the park, only the chilly night, keeping nothing around but _them_. Doing as planned and told to, he captured her hand in his, going down on one knee. Striving to maintain the eye contact with her, he inhaled deeply and uttered _the question_ :

"Sorne Gonzalvez, do you want to be my wife?"

"Yes, I do."

As she voiced this answer, she gave him the triumphant smile mixed with love and innocence, a smile he had never seen on her before, but he promised himself to remember vividly for the darker days. 

* * *

  
The wedding day came faster than they had expected it. Even though they hadn't made any specific plans, the idea of the outline of the ceremony had been in their heads ever since the engagement. Having to set a fast pace of the preparations from the start, due to the little spawn of theirs she was carrying. They wanted to get peacefully married without any unnecessary comments about the possible showing baby bump, now in the offing. 

Making a mental to offer the all the gods a decent sacrifice later, they were now on the way to one the hidden squares of the town, in a total disbelief that they had managed to carve out on time. Had it not been for the motorbike their friend graciously borrowed them, they would have been forced to postpone the ceremony at least thirty minutes.

The wind crashing against them was ruining her carefully braided hair, yet she didn't care. She only wanted to say the most important _"yes"_ of her life and speed up the time to their wedding night, since the pregnancy hormones were making her extraordinarily randy. She fought hard the urge to stroke him where he liked it, as she had her arms wrapped around him to secure herself on the motorbike. _"But he looks so handsome"_ she marvelled at her fiancé, feeling the coarse fabric of his suit, its blackness a stark contrast to her provisional white dress. 

When they arrived at the wedding "venue", they were greeted by a smattering of friends, who volunteered to help with the preparations. They park their vehicle and started through the "aisle". Knowing her hair was a mess, Sorne unplaited the braid, which caused her hair to curl a little, creating a delicate waves. Gripping his hand, she looked him deep in the eye and muttered:

"Let's do this."

He smiled, admiring his spectacular fiancée for the last time before she became his wife. Feeling as if happines was about to rip his skin open, he squeezed her palm in his, leading her to their last-minute hired officiant. 

Passing Sorne's best friend, now a maid of honor and Aitor's brother, a best man, they could not help grinning towards them with love and thankfulness in their eyes. Reaching the offciating guy, he turned to her, whispering:

"Let's get married my love!"

Thorough the ceremony itself neither of them was paying attention to the formula the reverend had to explain. They were too busy in each others' eyes, showing all of what couldn't be said. That magical conection was broken when they heard the question:

"Where are the rings?"

While their friends froze, not knowing what to say, the almost married couple exchanged a laugh and as if it was the most normal thing in the world they explained:

"We don't have them, let's continue."

The man in front of them shot them a confusing glance, but noticing the age of soon-to-be newlyweds he shrugged his shoulders and resumed his speech:

"Okay then, do you, Sorne Gonzalves truly want to marry this man?"

"I do." She looked her groom in the eye while carefully voicing every letter.

"And do you, Aitor de Fonollosa want to marry this woman?"

"With all my heart." Without breaking the eye contact he took her hand, before the man followed with the words they were dying to hear:

"In that case I pronounce you husband and wife! Come on, kiss her!"

With tears in his eyes he lowered his head to capture her lips with his, while the hands travelled to her waist and lifted her up, muttering a soft _"mi mujer"_ against her mouth. She returned the kiss with equal passion, encircling his body with her legs. She hated for a moment, then whispered _"te quiero mucho mi marido, mi querido Aitor"_ clinching the last words with a peck on his mouth, sealing not only their lips, but also a promise to be with him till the nature decided to part them. And the mighty angel of death has already made the choice.

* * *

Seven and a half months later, in the same hospital she was born in, she was craddling in her arms her own baby. A little boy with puffy cheeks and few blonde hairs wrapped in a hospital towel was cluthing at her index finger with all of his little digits, while his father gently stroked his small head. She bent down to leave a butterfly kiss on her son's forehead and turned to her husband right after. She whispered, a fatique with a blissful contentment painting on her face:

"He's perfect." 

"You're the strongest woman I have ever met, right now, looking in the eyes of our child, I know that I am beyond lucky to call you my wife." He wiped off some sweat from her face. "Have you decided on a name yet?" She smiled.

"Actually I did. Ready?" 

He nodded. Of course he was ready, ready as he will ever be, feeling privileged to be a father to this little boy.

"Andrés." She said, her voice adopted a tone he has never heard before. Left in awe and admiration he replied:

"Welcome to the world, Andrés de Fonollosa Gonzalvez"

Their journey was only beginning. 

  
  
  



	2. Black is also a colour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diving in to the more and more complicated things.

**Basauri, 1971**

Living with an infant was harder than either of them imagined. Still, despite all the sleepless nights, they cherished every single moment of it. Every tear or laugh was a new opportunity to step into little boy's world. And it surely was beautiful. Surrounded by the huge constructions of furniture and an incredibly yielding carpet he loved to roll around on, tiny Andrés saw it as a realm of giants, but those with numerous vibrant colours and endless kindness towards him. Like every other child his age, he did not only slept and ate, but also created a specified laugh-like sound when his mother came into his view. Andrés discovered a new taint with every blink of an eye, a new texture with every brush of a finger against the surfaces around him, a new scent making his nose scrunch or smell one more time. The unstoppable curiosity of the world flanking him, although he has only known his own house by far, was giving Sorne and Aitor a hell of a challenge. Despite the relatively small measurements of their flat, chasing baby Andrés around ceased their rest and provided them with a signal manual effort. As if he planned to be a true defiance for his parents he started cruising a month before the approximate time of life he should have done so. Now at the age of five and half months Andrés was an abnormally active apple of his parents' eyes, sometimes with a glimpse of being a pain in their asses.

Sorne loved being a mother. Albeit she didn't want the fact that her the most important dream was now fulfilled contain her from marking other things on her bucket list done. After motherhood, a desire that longed to be satiated next was studying, preferably in a city with many prospects of a satisfactory career and a job enabling her to secure her son, and future kids if any, with enough money to pursue their own dreams.

Now, breastfeeding her sleepy and feisty Andrés at 2 a.m., with her glasses supporting her unruly hairs in front, she was determined not to waste any minute. She planned to start school again as soon as her son switches to a bottle, which was soon to happen according to the neighbor mother pregnant with her fourth child. Making use of the fact that one of her hands remained unoccupied by the baby she was trying to make a list of steps she needed to take next.

Lists. Plans. Sorne's life was all about plans. She couldn't start with her day without having at least one sheet of paper with her day meticulously scheduled the night before. Yes, she was very aware of how crazy her methods might have seemed, but if being seen as mental one would let her sleep more than an hour total a day she was absolutely willing to sacrifice what once used to be her immaculate reputation.

_Find a_ _city_ _with prospects- check._

_Read intellectual books to broaden mental horizons- check._

"Sorne?"

_Ask the pregnant neighbor for some_ _cooking_ _lessons because her paella is delicious- check._

"Babe?"

_Check?_

_Aitor's hand waving_ _before_ _your_ _eyes- check._

_Wait what?_ Sorne's eyes burst open with an uncontrollable shake of head. She swore she neither heard his voice nor saw him standing about forty centimeters away from her. A minute later she was finally able to speak.

"Hi?" She looked at him with a puzzled grin, yet a tender smile. "Any reason you are not asleep at 2.15 a.m.?"

He rolled his eyes at her cute behaviour of an _I am still_ _watching_ _I wasn't_ _asleep_ _on_ _the_ _couch_ type of father. Unable to resist her sweet confusion he brought a hand under her chin and lifted it up, forcing their eyes to meet.

"Cariño, I hate to break it to you, but it's 3 a.m." He smiled seeing her mouth agape and her expression of pretended guilt. "I was getting a little concerned since you never ever before have been feeding this monster for more than fifteen minutes." She was completely in shock. "This and the fact that Andrés is carelessly drooling over your hair and shirt. I know you're the mom of the year, but I'll tell you a secret: moms of the years also need to sleep so hand him in to me and go lay down, you have around thirty five minutes left to next feeding, venga."

As she was clearly too day late and a dollar short to make an attempt to query his suggestions, she carefully stood up, trying not to wake Andrés who seemed to enjoy covering his mother's clothes with a mixture of saliva and milk coming out with every sleep-seized crow. She absentmindedly plodded to their bedroom and shot a final glance at the two loves of her life in a ponderous embrace of a first-time dad and his child. Another thing they had in common apart from the deep chocolate eyes was that neither of them slept much lately.

With this perfect view flashing behind her eyelids Sorne drifted off to a sleep as peaceful as a twenty five minutes nap of a baby mama could be. Travelling forward to the moments when she would wean little Andrés off her already sore breasts. 

Doing as planned, she woke up those few valuable minutes after. And despite all the curses and tears she has shed when her son took her nipple for early teething pain remedy she knew she wouldn't have changed it for the world. Never.

This was her _it_ , her standard fare. It was tough, unpredictable, but _hers_.

* * *

**Basauri, 1974 part one**

At the age of twenty two years, three months and eleven days old Aitor the Fonollosa, a freshly hired mechanic, thought he could rule the world. Happily married to the prettiest aspiring doctor in the country and even more happily engaged in being a dad of his brilliant (as much as brilliant can three year old humans be) Andrés he felt like he possessed a total control over his life. After having spent many years perceived as the friendly neighborhood's bad guy now the people who would despise him waved at him with an ocasional 'good morning' or 'how's little Andrés?'. He _drastically_ changed his appearance, which in male-code means he cropped his hair and grow a bristle. Of course without forgetting to adjust his clothing style to the fresh look. But as aberrant as it might have seemed to everybody, who had the pleasure or the ickiness of meeting Aitor, for the young man himself all the turnabouts allowed him to straighten up and fly right overnight, making him a person his parents had always wanted him to be. And to his own surprise he didn't mind the new Aitor de Fonollosa. He would never admit it out loud, but he liked that elegant mechanic guy. He thought that he had known life, that he had already tasted it properly. What he didn't know was that on this particularly cold day of September he would lose his prized control to one seemingly simple decision.

Despite the cold rain falling on his neatly ironed blazer and carefully brushed hair Aitor felt like he was walking on air. Not even his dearly detested torrent could wash away the smile from his face when he was going home from work to his precious family. He imagined Sorne with Andrés sitting in front of the kitchen window, making bets which drop would win the never ending race on the glass. By now he was freezing, yet all he could feel was the familiar warmth spreading from his heart to the every inch of his body. _Ten more minutes, ten more minutes,_ he though while shielding from the wind that joined the downpour in the contest of destroying his day. But neither of them could win. Nothing was strong enough to do it, when he knew the prize of an evening with his son and wife. Or at least he though so to the moment his optimism faded immediately at the sound of the voice behind him. He didn't need to turn away.

"Aitor de Fonollosa? I've though I will never see you again."

* * *

**Madrid, 1974**

When Jesús Marquina, a junior engineer on the internship, heard that he would be moving to Basque Country to create another branch for his company as a full employee, he can't have not secretly hope for the place to be Basauri. His hometown, filled to the brim with memories of the careless times as a little boy and the vivid moments spent with his teenage love he has never truly moved on from. Waiting for the _critical_ decision to be made he tried to stay calm and play it cool, despite his raging heart and tingly guts. _Why did forty five second feel like an eternity?_ His leg was threatening to start shaking under the table. _Why was he so nervous? She probably does no longer remember him._ His mind was spinning around that one girl with blonde hair and piercing eyes. It took three deep breaths for him to slowly started spiritually reappearing in the room. Three deep breaths, two snaps of fingers in front of his eyes and one louder 'Marquina?' before he threw the confusion off. He blinked his eyes twice and adjusted his glasses with the unusual gesture consisting of slightly pulling them up with a pad of his thumb and pushing them strongly with his index finger right after. He was ready:

"Yes boss? I'm sorry I was poorly for a moment." He wasn't, of course not, but as compensation of the bad sight genes he had a knack for acting, which he ironically has never wanted to explore above what it was now- morphing the ugliest lies to the most believable truth. It worked like a charm.

"Mr. Marquina the management, in the person of me, decided that you will go to a little city called Basauri. It is not widely known, but we are going to be the first engineering company there. Pure profit. Is this okay to you? I suppose you wanted Bilbao, but..."

"Basauri is more than fine boss" he interrupted him, "sorry for calling a halt to you."

"It's fine, you're starting in July, you have one week to pack and another week to become familiar with the town. Good luck!" His boss was completely unfazed by the interruption, he rather seemed awestruck by the courage of his usually withdrawn employee.

Basauri, Basauri, _Basauri._ If Jesús could jump on the table and kiss his boss he would, probably twenty times in a row followed by hundreds of 'thank you''s and twenty kisses more. Instead he patiently waited for the permission to go home and, as soon as it came, he stormed out and practically ran to his flat. Almost unhinging the door to his place, he didn't even bother to take off his coat and boots off. All he could care was a picture he stored at the bottom of his socks drawer. A frozen image of his first and last girlfriend from the day he saw her for the last time.

If there was one thing that connected all men of the Marquina generation, it would be the way they developed attachments and relationships. They felt in love only once, they might have had flings or partners, but they only loved once. And when they did it was the strongest feeling one could ever ask for. A feeling that was kept untouched for years waiting for the right person to claim all of it and be worth living through it. 

Following in the wake of his ancestors Jesús poured his feelings once in his life on a woman named Sorne Gonzalves, that also happened to be his classmate and a girlfriend in high school. Looking at the picture in front of him his mind travelled back to the day he broke up with her. The day he has been regretting ever since he had told her his family is moving away to Madrid, and he had to put an end to them since moving away in 1967 meant that you're most likely to never see each other ever again. All he could pray for was her not living outside of Basauri and her not giving her heart to another man. Thinking more and more about her soft hair, sweet lips and heartful laugh, he let himself recall the last moments with her for the third time this week.

* * *

**Basauri, 1967**

To say that letting the love of his life go was one of the biggest pains of his seventeen year old life would be an understatement. Jesús Marquina doubted if he would ever feel pain close to the one he felt now, while walking with his head down to meet his beloved Sorne Gonzalves for the last time. He knew he wouldn't but he was also not eager to try. Feeling tears starting to form in the corners of his eyes he tried to think about the happiest moments he spent with her. Their first date, first awkward kisses and later those passionate, their first sleepover, their first try to make love. Oh how awful and nostalgic it was, their first time that ended with bursting laughter instead the planned release. They unanimously decided to never do it again until they are at least twenty. 

It was the first meeting with her that he has not been looking forward to. What a monster one has to be to break the lovely heart of hers. He knew the answer, but he refused to embrace it for as long as it was possible not to. Every step, every breath closer to her was a new blade cutting right through his heart, the sharpest ones as he was getting closer and closer. But if there was one thing seventeen year old Jesús knew about life it would be that it is inevitable, merciless and ongoing despite all the odds. Seven more steps he would usually run to her in were now stalled, unhurried. Five, there she is. Three, his divine woman. One...

"What's going on" She noticed, how could she not? He would always look away in every feasible direction but her eyes, when something was bothering him. Notwithstanding his vehement attempts to avoid her gaze she would always find her way to him. Same as always Sorne gently took his face between her hands and turned it to face her own. " _Qué está pasando?_ Jesús?

Marquina could tell that he surrendered to her charms again, _for the last time_. One deep breath and one long prayer for the last of his life. 

"Sorne I... we..." He no longer tried to conceal his tears, he let them draw an invisible and devastating path down his face. "We have to break up." She gazed at him with disbelief and distress painting on her face.

"Why are you saying that?" Her teeth were chattering letting out increasingly frequent sobs.

"My family is moving to Madrid, we're leaving tomorrow." Surprised to notice that her breath was calming down Jesús took her hands in his, kissed her knuckles gently. HIs mouth parted to speak, but she took the liberty of doing that first.

"I'll never forget you Marquina, you know that?" She seemed to have already accepted their fate. Because it would take time to surrender to it, but now all things she cared about were _him_ and the memory of their last encounter he would hold onto in Madrid. They had to be worth remembering.

"My love you have owned my heart since the very first day I saw you. But please don't let me own yours." She looked at him, clearly taken off-guard. "Find somebody who will make you happy." He sniffled. "But not too much, that place is mine sweetheart!" He planted a kiss on the tip of her nose. His smugness, oh how she adored it. They laughed heartily until their eyes made contact, eyes full of grief. 

"I love you too bastard!" She managed to utter and wiped his tears with her fingers.

They went silent, standing together, crying, their mixing tears recreating their happiest memories. Only two of them in the whole world, simply breathing.

He cupped her face, their mouths brushing against one another.

"Don't let me be gone, Sorne." 

"I never could. Not _You._ " She pulled him down and sealed their lips in a kiss full of words too painful to be spoken. Their _last kiss_ before they'd part forever. 

_Forever?_

* * *

**Basauri, 1974 part two**

_"Aitor de Fonollosa? I've though I will never see you again."_

Hearing the voice he has never expected to hear again Aitor froze. He had spent seven years without thinking about his wife's ex-boyfriend, but only today he realized how he should have appreciated every minute of the passed time. Although they were both _responsible_ adults now Aitor could not spare the man behind him any grace. He turned away and responded with a prominent mockery in his voice:

"Jesús Marquina weren't you moving away to Madrid for good?" 

"Ah, new hair old Fonollosa. Yes, I'm back. _For good_." Aitor was not the only one playing this game. "No more grudges?" He proposed while offering his hand.

"No more." Aitor grinned and shook hands with his former nemesis. "What are you doing in this old hick town _madrileño_?

"My boss wants me to open a new branch here, for engineering. And why are you out in this horrible weather?"Jesús suppressed a laugh.

"Going home from work actually, my family is waiting for me." He left his interlocutor astonished.

"Aitor de Fonollosa with a family? I'm impressed." He admitted and added: "Who am I to stop you then, nice to see you again, greet them from me, please."

"No, no, no, we're actually almost there, why won't you come in?" Honestly speaking Aitor himself was surprised to have invited him over. He will figure out till the day he dies if his sudden invitation was a courtesy or a sheer malevolent desire to show his ex-enemy who his wife was.

On their way to his home Aitor couldn't stop pondering why the feeling of vengeance evoking in him felt good. _If something is said to be wrong, but it feels good, is it really as wrong as they say?_ The need to ditch all the elegant clothes and embrace the new _old_ Aitor started taking over his brain, only now he chose to ignore it. As two recpectful men they did not share a single word until they reched the door of their destination. Only then did Aitor pleaded:

"Were here, please don't be shy to interact with them."

At the sound of door opening Sorne, who was playing with her son on the living room's floor, shifted and whispered to Andrés in a baby voice as she gently tickled her kid's stomach:

"Who's that? Is it daddy? Is it my Andrésito? Shall we say hello to daddy?" She took him in her arms and headed towards door. Without taking her eyes off her son she spoke:

"Hello honey, we missed you how was your d-" 

Then it hit her that the man standing next to her husband was none another than Jesús Marquina himself. All the words got stuck in her throat and her body threatened to give up and drop little Andrés.

If it wasn't for the door behind him Jesús would swear he would have passed out there. It was _her_. She, who he has never expected to see again. She, whom he had given his heart to. Sorne, who was the only one he's ever loved. And here she was, holding a child in her arms, married, _married_ to the last person he would've expected her to like. Has she moved on as he had asked her, or had he requested it as a reason of the moment's aura? He knew he shouldn't be hurt, but how could he not be? He just hoped she remebered him. 

"Sorne?" He sussurated.

"It's _You._ " She insinuated when she got the courage to look him in the eye.

Observing it from aside Aitor de Fonollosa smirked, letting the feeling of revenge fill him again. He felt like a director preparing the work of his life. He knew he would watch that play eagerly, fully engrossed like the most careful galleryite. If only he knew that the black courtain he just pulled up was the first step to _the great decay_ of all that Aitor de Fonollosa has ever been.


End file.
